


FIC: Mrs. & Mrs. Mord'Sith 6/8

by trancer



Series: Mrs. & Mrs. Mord'Sith [6]
Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-27
Updated: 2010-05-27
Packaged: 2017-10-17 23:50:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trancer/pseuds/trancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cara and Kahlan are married spies, with a *mostly* picture perfect marriage. But, when Cara's past catches up to them, their lives are about to change in the most unexpected of ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	FIC: Mrs. & Mrs. Mord'Sith 6/8

CLIT HEADQUARTERS, NEW UNKNOWN LOCATION - TEN MONTHS LATER

Cara sat slumped in a chair, wearing nothing but black panties, combat boots and her collar. She’d earned the smaller one six months ago, an inch in width compared to the previous two-inch thick one. But, she hadn’t earned the right to walk around the compound completely collar free. She sat in her chair facing the large bay windows of her quarters, watching the rain is it drizzled down in sheets against the glass. Her arm slung over the side of the chair, from her fingers hung a bottle of Irish whiskey, the contents almost drained.

Behind her, on the larger than King-sized bed, lay seven of her Sisters, exhausted, naked, curled around each other like snuggling kittens taking a nap.

The door to her quarters open, light from the corridor silhouetting the visit on the stone floors. The door closed and Cara didn’t bother to turn to see who’d entered, just listened to the sounds of heels clacking across the floor. At this time of night, it could only be one person.

Denna, in her white leathers, approached. She set the netbook in her hands onto the floor before swinging her leg up and over Cara’s lap, straddling Cara. She leaned in, running her tongue over Cara’s lips before pressing their mouths together.

“I leave you alone for five minutes,” she purred, fingering the metal clasp of Cara’s collar. “And you go and do this. You keep.. exhausting your Sisters and there‘ll be no one left to send on missions.”

Cara turned her head to press the bottle to her lips, taking another long pull. “It’s not my fault if they’re weak.”

“No,” Denna pouted in disappointment. “But it is your fault if you break the rules. I’m beginning to think you like it when I punish you.”

“No more than you..” Cara sneered. “Mistress.”

Denna chuckled. She reached down, grasping the bottle from Cara’s fingers. Bringing it to her lips, she downed it, swallowing loudly, lasciviously, if one could swallow lasciviously. All the while, she kept her eyes on Cara, her actions louder than words - this is mine, everything is mine, including you.

The contents drained, Denna wiped her mouth with the back of one hand while using the other to set the bottle back on the floor. Drawing her arms over Cara’s shoulders, Denna leaned in, connecting their mouths and kissing wantonly, purring throatily, rolling her hips. Cara returned the heat with the desire and passion of dry ice.

The kiss broke. Denna pulled a hair’s breath away, rolling her lower lip into her mouth, gazing at Cara with conquering and hungry eyes.

“Tell me you want me,” she husked into Cara’s mouth.

“I want you, Mistress.”

Eyes twinkling, Denna‘s predatory smile pulled wider. “Tell me you need me.

“I need you,” Cara inhaled, gritting her teeth. “Mistress.”

Denna shifted, lifting by her knees. Grabbing Cara’s wrist, Denna pulled on Cara’s hand, until it was between Denna’s legs. “Tell me,” she groaned, hips already grinding through creaking and groaning leather onto Cara’s fingers. “How much you want to fuck me.”

Cara couldn’t hide her look of disgust and Denna laughed, allowing Cara to withdraw her hand. She lowered, drawing their faces closer again. “How much do you want to kill me right now?” she drawled, straight into Cara’s eyes like she actually demanded an answer. “How much do you want to wrap your fingers around my throat and just.. squeeze?”

“Is that a question or a request?” she tilted her head, eyes narrowing and staring at the woman harshly. “Mistress.”

“Oh Cara,” Denna laughed, like an adult towards a petulant child. She rose, removing herself from Cara’s lap and circling around until she was behind Cara’s chair. Placing the netbook on Cara’s lap, the machine flickering to life as she pulled up the screen, Denna rested her forearms on Cara’s shoulders, her cheek to Cara’s ear.

“I have a present for you,” she said.

“Hurray,” Cara said dryly, rolling her eyes. “More internet porn. Just what I need.”

“Click the icon.”

Cara was about to ask which one when it became self-evident - the one labeled ‘Cara’s Present’. She clicked and a video opened, filling the screen as it began to play, the screen staying black for several seconds.

“What am I looking at?” Cara asked impatiently.

“Just watch.”

Black turned to video, black and white security footage. A hospital nursery and Cara’s breath hitched then she stopped breathing all together. The cribs were lined in two rows of ten, filled with sleeping, squirming, crying babies.

“This was taken three months ago,” Denna whispered as the camera began to zoom in on one crib in particular. Cara stiffened to keep herself from trembling, blinking rapidly to stop the tears from building in her eyes. The camera zoomed in again, to the placard placed at the end of the crib.

“Isabel Amnell-Mason,” Denna read aloud. “Isabel? That’s your grandmother’s name, isn’t it Cara?”

Eyes glued to the screen, Cara turned her head slightly towards Denna. “Did you..”

“Do you think so little of me, Cara?” Denna sighed, disappointed. “Kahlan and precious, little Isabel are perfectly fine.”

“Then why?”

Denna ran a fingertip down the line of Cara‘s ear. “Let’s call this a little insurance policy. A reminder of your promise and what’s at stake. You’ve been straying outside the lines. Forgetting about our deal. And we wouldn’t want sweet, innocent little Isabel to grow up without a mother, would we?” Denna stood, turning on her heel and heading towards the door. “You can keep the tape.”

**

AYDINDRIL, NEW ZEALAND

Richard fidgeted impatiently as the technician finished with the last modifications on Richard’s new hand. A combination of new technologies and old, magic and computerized robotics. Fused to his arm, covered in realistic skin, Richard watched the small pistons through the opened panel beneath his wrist as he wiggled his fingers.

“How does it feel?”

Richard, already smiling, lifted his head at the sound of Kahlan’s voice. She stood, wearing jeans and a white, cable knit sweater, in the door to his hospital room, coat draped over the hands gently clasped before her.

“Weird,” he said as Kahlan entered the room, taking a seat next to Richard‘s bed on the opposite side of the working technician. “Like, I know it’s not my hand but it is.”

“Everything’s good,” the technician said, closing the panel on Richard’s arm then quietly leaving the room.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been here to see you lately,” Kahlan sighed. Richard awoke from his coma a month after Isabel’s birth. He’d healed, for the most part, but still needed extensive physical therapy before he’d fully recover.

“It’s okay, Kahlan,” Richard smiled his Richard smile, reaching out and clasping his hand over Kahlan’s, noting the dark circles under her eyes. “You look tired.”

“I’m a mother with a newborn,” she chuckled. “I’m supposed to be tired.”

The smile on his face faded. He knew her too well. The bags under her eyes were too dark to be solely from a lack of sleep. “Kahlan,” he said with a ‘you can’t fool me’ tone.

Kahlan chuckled softly, lowering her head. Her smile faded as well, brows crinkling as she gazed at the gold band on her ring finger. She lifted her head, smiling like it was the only thing she could do to keep from crying. “Today’s our anniversary,” she shrugged. “Every time I look at Isabel, I see Cara. She should be here. I need her here.”

“You’ll..” Richard tightened his hold on her hand. “We’ll get her back.”

Kahlan slid her hand from Richard’s fingers as she slumped back in her chair, inhaling solemnly, like she desperately wanted to believe his words were true and failing. Elbow on the armrest, she placed her chin on her hand, gazing blankly at the flowers, gift baskets, bags and bags of mail from well wishers. Richard Cypher, the Seeker, was beloved the world over.

“The Agency’s written her off. They’re not even looking for her,” she snorted derisively, disillusioned. “No one will tell me anything. Even Zedd..” she stopped, noting Richard’s sudden discomfort. “Richard,” she sighed.

“He lied to me, Kahlan.”

“He only did what he thought was best.” They’d had this conversation multiple times and Kahlan said what she always said.

“Did he?” he asked, anger filling his voice. “What about my sister? I can almost understand lying about Darken Rahl, but her?”

This time, it was Kahlan leaning forward, clasping her hand over Richard’s. “Parents, even grandparents, will do anything to protect their child.”

They’d had this conversation dozens of times before and it was always the same, until today. Richard lifted his eyes, his gaze searching. “Would you? How far would you go to protect Isabel?”

Kahlan swallowed hard. She didn’t have an answer.

**

Richard sleeping, Kahlan quietly exited his room. She frowned, pursing her lips at the now one guard outside of Richard’s room currently busying himself by flirting at the Nurses Station.

“How quickly they forget,” the old man’s voice graveled and Kahlan nearly jumped in surprise. She turned to him and his face softened, lips pulling into a wide Zedd smile before the smile fell from his lips as he turned his eyes to Richard’s door. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s still mad at you,” Kahlan half-smiled. “If that’s what you want to know.”

“I..”

She held up a hand, cutting him off. “I know. You were only protecting him. And, eventually, he’ll forgive you. He just needs time.”

“It seems time,” Zedd grimaced. “May be a luxury Richard can’t afford.”

“Zedd?”

He tilted his head, bobbing it as he extended his elbow and turned on his heel. Kahlan thread her arm through his, the two walking side by side down the corridor. Zedd, his head held high but his eyes distant, spoke as he walked. “I’m sure you’ve heard the.. rumors.”

Rumor. Information was always a precious commodity within the Agency’s, a commodity Kahlan had found harder and harder to get a hold of in the past ten months. What she did get was gossip and there was only one rumor that was the hot topic of the gossip mill. “The rumor to replace Richard as the Seeker.”

“Mmm,” was all Zedd said.

Kahlan stopped in her tracks, tugging on his arm until he faced her. “Richard’s the one true Seeker. They wouldn’t dare.”

“Would they?” An eyebrow craned high up his forehead. “With the Sword of Truth..” he used finger quotes, “missing and no clear evidence of Darken Rahl’s involvement. Add in Richard’s lineage, along with his current hospitalization and you have enough political ammunition to sow the seeds.”

Kahlan could feel the guilt weighing on her shoulders as she lowered her head, looking back towards Richard’s room. Guilt over how differently things might have been had she followed the Mother Confessor’s advice by marrying Richard, and not her own heart.

“Kahlan,” Zedd sighed, placing his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to distress you anymore than you already are. I didn’t come here to talk to you about Richard. I came to talk to you.. about your curse.”

Her curse. Thankfully, it hadn’t been passed on to Isabel but it was still there within Kahlan. In the beginning, after Kahlan returned to Aydindril, The Wizard’s Order, upon Zedd’s insistence, had worked furiously to break the spell. The ancient Mord’Sith texts were hard to come by, most had been destroyed or lost. The few volumes that still existed were hidden within the People’s Palace of D’Hara. The Wizard’s tried their best but all of their attempts failed. And the one that had come close, the pain was so excruciating, Kahlan blacked out immediately.

“Zedd.” Kahlan shivered, recalling the memory. After she’d awakened, she refused any further attempts to break the curse, fearing it would hurt the baby, or worse. “Have you found a way to break it?”

“Maybe,” his brows lowered, shadowing his eyes. “And you’re not going to like it.”

**

GNN SPECIAL REPORT  
‘FINAL PREPARATIONS UNDERWAY FOR US/D’HARAN SUMMIT’

Cooper Jones: I’m standing outside the Palace of Nations in Geneva, Switzerland where, in less than two weeks, the Prime Minister of D’Hara and the President of the United States will have an historic summit. Hopes are high for the summit, the last time two leaders of the US and D’Hara met was at the end of World War II, when President Truman met the, then, Lord Rahl of D’Hara, Panis Rahl, in 1948. And while hopes are high that these two powerful nations can build a bridge towards peace, fears are just as high. The Swiss government is reportedly spending up to 70 million dollars on security alone. Tensions between the two nations were strained with reports of the US seeking an arrest warrant against Darken Rahl, alleged to have attacked Richard Cypher in Venice. Cypher, has yet to make a public appearance since his fall from a building ten months ago. Members of the D’Haran Loyalist party continue to refute these claims.

[Image changes from Cooper to video of an interview. Cooper sits across a table with a middle-aged man with a thick mustache. The CG under his name reads Fmr. General Egremont.]

Egremont: These accusations are ludicrous. As is this continuous smear campaign to sully the name of Darken Rahl by our parties opponents, including [he wags a finger] your government. ‘Darken Rahl’s evil’, ‘Darken Rahl’s searching for the Boxes of Orden to enslave mankind’, ‘Darken Rahl’s a flaming homosexual who likes to dress up like Elron from Lord of the Rings’. It’s all preposterous and, quite frankly, insulting.

**

 _VENICE, ITALY_

 _Asleep, Kahlan stirred, then winced at the physical pain stirring caused. Unconsciousness quickly turned to consciousness as her mind recalled why her body was in such pain. A fight. The searing pain of an Agiel. Cara’s Agiel. Cara. Blackness._

 _She rolled onto her side, ignoring the aches and pains screaming in protest. Eyes slowing opening, she waited for the blurriness to disappear as she gauged her surroundings. A large, barely decorated bedroom, with nothing but a desk and a dresser, no pictures on the walls, no computer, television or entertainment system, no little knickknacks or accruements to tell where she was or who’s bedroom she was in._

 _Gingerly, Kahlan slid her legs over the side of the bed. She sat up, taking a moment until the spinning in her head and the rising nausea with it stopped. Everything hurt. EVERYTHING. Even her *hair* hurt. She’d fought the Shadow. She’d fought Cara. And she felt it. It showed. She wore nothing but panties and endless miles of bandages, around her ribs which spasmed every time she inhaled too deeply, her left thigh, right knee and calf, medical tape criss-crossed over her left shoulder and, the last mark she remembered receiving, a band-aid just over her left eye._

 _It wasn’t the physical pain that caused the salt to sting her eyes. This pain went much deeper. She’d been used. Betrayed, even if it wasn’t really a betrayal since Cara had been using her all along. It would have been easier, being used and betrayed, if Kahlan hadn’t fallen so hard. Fallen for the rogue-ish and mysterious woman who always seemed to pop up wherever Kahlan was. She should have seen it. Blinded by her own desires, by the freedom being with Cara seemed to offer. Kahlan had already given her heart and soul, had Cara waited just one more damn day, Kahlan would have given her body as well._

 _Disgusted with herself, Kahlan grit her teeth, slowly rose from the bed. Everything within her seemed to scream at once but Kahlan soldiered on. Step by slow and painful step, she made her way to the dresser, reaching for clothes neatly stacked on top. Except, the world began to spin again. Hard. The nausea hit her like a freight train. Kahlan swayed, legs turning to jelly._

 _Then, there was an arm around her waist, holding her up. A body pressed against hers, taking the weight. Kahlan was almost relieved.._

 _“You shouldn’t be out of bed.”_

 _Cara’s voice shot through Kahlan like ice water. She no longer felt pain or nausea, just pure, unadulterated rage. Kahlan swung back with her elbow. Cara easily ducked the blow. But, with them in such close proximity, Kahlan swung her elbow then, as she spun in Cara’s grasp, wrapped her other hand around Cara’s throat. Blue irises swirled with black until they were dark as midnight. The magic, the rage, surged from Kahlan, into Cara, then through Cara._

 _“Kahlan,” Cara hissed through clenched teeth, her neck muscles straining under Kahlan’s tight grip. “You can’t confess me.”_

 _“Watch me,” Kahlan growled. Sweat dotted her forehead, her body and her magic battling for dominance._

 _“Kahlan..” Cara wrapped her fingers around Kahlan’s wrist and squeezed. “You can’t confess me. I’m immune.”_

 _Which was impossible except it wasn’t. Kahlan saw, in the green eyes that remained green, she felt it, the way her magic seemed to flow through Cara. Then Kahlan felt the pain in her wrist, which seemed to flare throughout her body as her magic dissipated. She gasped, hard and choking, the strength leaving her body as everything hurt all at once. The dizziness and nausea returned, worse than before, and Kahlan buckled at the knees._

 _Cara caught her, draping Kahlan’s arm over her shoulder as she walked Kahlan back to the bed. Kahlan sighed in relief, in defeat, panting heavily as she laid back down, rolling onto her back and throwing an arm over her face. It figured, Kahlan thought, of all the people in the world, the one person immune to confession would be the one person sent to kill her._

 _“Are you,” Kahlan spoke softly, the fight completely drained from her. “Going to kill me?”_

 _“I already tried and, as you can see,” Cara folded her arms across her chest, nodded her head. “I wasn’t very successful.”_

 _“My body would disagree.” Kahlan slid her arm off her face, tilting her head towards Cara. “You tried to kill me.”_

 _“And as far as the world is concerned, I succeeded. Kahlan Amnell is dead and it would be best, for both our sakes, if the world continued to think so.. For now.”_

 _Kahlan looked at Cara, watching her talk. The words sank in but they didn’t register. They were nothing but white noise, nothing compared to the words Kahlan wanted to hear. “Why?” she asked._

 _“Why what?” Cara shrugged. “Why didn’t I kill you?”_

 _“No,” Kahlan snapped back. “Why didn’t you kill me the day you met me? Why’d you wait until after I’d fallen in love with you?”_

 _“I..” Cara stiffened as if recovering from a swift blow. “I’m sorry.”_

 _Kahlan could only gape at her. Thoughts of killing the blonde running through her mind.. after she recovered from the blonde almost killing her. “Sorry? That’s all you have to say? You’re sorry?”_

 _“What do you want me to say?” Cara flailed her arms, palms slapping against her thighs in exasperation. She was supposed to kill Kahlan. She didn’t. She didn’t understand the point in explaining any further._

 _“Forget it,” Kahlan exhaled. She flopped onto her back, wincing as she placed the heels of her palms to her eyes. “Just.. leave me alone.”_

 _There was silence, stilted and tension filled. Kahlan kept her hand held over her eyes because she could *feel* Cara staring at her. Kahlan didn’t have the energy to try and explain what even she didn’t understand. She’d veered off the path set before by, well, everyone and it had led her *here* - close to death, battered and bruised, on the bed of the woman who’d tried to kill her._

 _The bed dipped and Kahlan stiffened, fearing Cara might try and touch her. And her heart skipped a beat at the thought, followed with a flutter deep within the pit of her stomach. Kahlan tight-rope walking the thin line between love and hate._

 _But, Cara didn’t try to touch Kahlan. The curiosity became too much and Kahlan opened her eyes. Cara sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on her knees, eyes focused intently on the Agiel in her hand. Kahlan shivered, remembering the burning sensation against her skin._

 _“Cara,” she said softly, voice tinged with worry, wondering what exactly Cara planned to do with her Agiel._

 _“This has been my constant companion for almost twelve years, almost half my life,” she said, staring at the rod almost reverently. “It gives me clarity, focus, purpose. When I’m without it, I feel.. almost lost. Except..” she turned her head slightly towards Kahlan, features lost behind a curtain of blonde hair. “When I’m with you.”_

 _The moment the words left her lips, Cara was up and on her feet, heading towards the door. She stopped in the doorway, head barely turned in Kahlan‘s direction. “You should rest.”_

**

CLIT HEADQUARTERS

Denna, hips swaying like sex wrapped in white leather, stalked slowly on the catwalk overlooking the War Room, the cavernous space below the compound that was the heart of CLIT, like NASA only evil. On the far side of the room was a giant computer monitor, 20 feet high and 50 feet wide. A map of the world in black and green, with red dots representing an operation and a small window next to it streaming the operatives mission. On the floor, there were rows upon rows of desk lined together, where Mord’Sith’s typed furiously on computers, spoke into their headsets in organized chaos.

Denna stopped, placing her palms outwards on the railing, leaning and canting her hips. The chain in her hand rattled lightly. Attached to the chain, of course, was Cara. Who stood next to Denna in her brown leathers, blonde hair still loose about her shoulders, hands clasped behind her back and standing at an attentive pose.

“What should we do today, Cara?” Denna purred.

“The same thing we do everyday,” Cara huffed. “Try to take over the world.. Mistress.”

“A joke?” Denna spun on her heel, eyes alight. “Did Cara Mason just make a joke?”

Cara didn’t respond, at least, not verbally. Eyes forward, she merely twisted her lips into a distasteful sneer.

Back to the railing, Denna folded her arms over her chest. She gazed at Cara hard, examining her features, wondering if this was typical Cara insolence or the sign of something more. She raised her hand, drumming her gloved fingers on her chin. Then, her eyes brightened as her lips curled into a seductive grin.

“We have seven new recruits coming this afternoon,” she said. “I want you to oversee their training.”

Cara’s head snapped towards her. “Me? Why?”

“Because,” she swaggered towards Cara, leaning in, running a fingertip down the side of Cara’s face as she purred. “If anyone knows about breaking, it’s you.”

Cara’s flinch was minute, barely a twitch but a flinch, nonetheless. On anyone else, it would have been nothing more, a sign of fear. On Cara, as big a sign of submission as if she’d dropped to her knees and sworn her obedience. Denna knew Cara’s weak spots. Knew how to draw the knife’s edge over and over again.

Denna’s smile broadened. She stepped into Cara, drawing an arm over Cara’s shoulder as her finger continued to caress Cara’s cheek. “When you’re done, I want you to prepare a dinner for just the two of us. A romantic dinner, where you wine and dine me, astound me with your wit. I want to see you smile, Cara. Then..” she pressed her lips gently to Cara’s, eyes dark and heated. “I want you to fuck me until I pass out. Understood?”

Cara’s mouth opened to respond then quickly closed. She could wine Denna, dine her, fuck the woman until she went into a coma. But, smiling for her? As if she found it pleasurable? The very idea repulsed Cara down to her core. But, what else could she do? Denna had her bent over a barrel and they both knew it.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good girl. Now,” she husked with eyes already closing. “Kiss me.”

These were the only moments where Cara was allowed to show dominance. Moments Cara gleefully took, relishing the opportunity. She snaked her hand behind Denna’s head, fisting her hair and yanking as her mouth pounced onto Denna’s. She kissed Denna hard, sloppily, tongue battering Denna’s into submission as the blonde’s eyes practically rolled into the back of her head. Denna was always such a pushy bottom.

“Excuse me, Mistress.”

Cara, thankful for the interruption, immediately pulled them apart, Denna growling in frustration.

“What is it, Sister Triana?” Denna asked in irritation.

“Forgive the intrusion, Mistress,” Triana, with her olive skin, dark hair and cheeks dusted with freckles, bowed her head respectfully. “Darken Rahl is here to see you.”

“Darken Rahl?” Denna said with a raised eyebrow. “This should be interesting.”

**

Darken Rahl.

He stood patiently in the Grand Hall, in his red and black coat signifying his position as the Lord Rahl. Behind him stood a sole D’Haran guard in a sleeveless doublet, exposing Adonis sculpted arms. The hood pulled far over his face, leaving only his chin visible. They were both flanked by a dozen Mord’Sith’s standing in a double line formation, hands resting on their Agiel’s.

“Darken Rahl,” Denna spoke, sauntering into the hall. “I see your hair’s growing back.”

“Apparently,” Rahl merely grinned at the slight as Denna took a seat on her chaise. “It’s all about the conditioner.”

“What do you want, Rahl?” Denna sniffed like she was bored, making a snaking motion with her chain to get Cara’s attention, showing her dominance, to both Cara and Rahl.

“I am in need of your..” he bowed his head respectfully to hide his smirk. “Services.”

“Why would I want to anything for you? The last time we exchanged services, you didn’t exactly fulfill your end of the bargain.”

“And yet,” his eyes went to Cara, raking them up and down. “You got exactly what you wanted.”

“Mmm,” Denna inhaled at the scent of opportunity in the air. “What exactly did you get, Rahl? Richard Cypher’s not dead. An invalid, maybe but he’s still living and breathing.”

Rahl lowered the hand under his chin, Cheshire-cat grin broadening. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” Eyes on Denna, he turned his head slightly to the man behind him. “Say hello, Richard.”

The man removed his hood, revealing the face of Richard Cypher. Even Denna couldn’t contain her surprised gasp as the Mord’Sith’s surrounding Rahl and Richard snapped into fighting poses.

Richard stepped closer to his brother, smiling goofily like a five-year-old on his first day at the playground. He raised his hand to face level, wiggling it back and forth. “Hi,” he said. “My name’s Richard.”

The Mord‘Sith‘s, moving as one, pulled their Agiel’s from their hips, the whispering screams getting louder as they stepped towards the two men.

“STOP!” Denna yelled and they all froze instantly. “Back away.”

Denna rose from her chaise, eyes glued to Richard, hand gripping Cara’s chain, forcing Cara to follow as Denna slowly approached the Seeker. She stopped inches from him, eyes examining him closely. Richard looked at her expectantly, like a puppy waiting to get its belly scratched.

“Oh Rahl,” Denna purred, reaching up with her hand and caressing Richard’s face. “What have you done?”

Cara, still not believing her eyes, turned to Rahl. “You were responsible for the prison break at Alcatraz.”

“Very good, Cara,” Rahl gloated. “You get a cookie.”

Richard brightened. “Can I have a cookie, Darken? I like cookies.”

“No, Richard,” Rahl rolled his eyes. “You can not have a cookie.” He nodded his head to Cara. “Yes, I was responsible for the break out. Give a scientist with the ethics and morals of a tsetse fly a half billion dollars and you’d be amazed at the results.”

Denna licked her lips. She drew her hands over Richard’s chest, unbuttoning his doublet. “And he’s Richard? In every way?”

“Your Cara would know more about that than I would,” he smirked at the fiery glare Cara sent his way. Dahl slowly circled, watching Denna as she examined the false Seeker. “There are a few modifications to be made. As you can see, Richard’s dumber than a bag of hair but,” he sighed. “Considering the source material.”

One of the hands caressing Richard’s chest lowered, and lowered. Richard looked at Denna, puzzled, unsure as to whether or not this was a new game. Then, Denna’s hand slid between Richard’s skin and his leather pants and Richard’s mouth hung open, a ragged gasp choking in the back of his throat. “Darken says I’m not supposed to play with myself.” He shuddered again as Denna’s fingers tightened, turning his face to Darken Rahl. “Is she supposed to play with it?”

Rahl growled in irritation. There were many things he wanted to see, Denna molesting his fake brother right in front of him was *not* one of them. “Denna.”

Richard shuddered, face convulsing like he was suffering from brain freeze as Denna slowly withdrew her hand.

“I want D’Harist Columbia,” she said, turning to Rahl.

“What?”

“Whatever it is you’re up to, it involves you restoring the House of Rahl and proclaiming yourself the true Lord Rahl. If you want my help, I want D’Harist Columbia. I always loved Vancouver.”

Rahl sucked a breath through his teeth. “I’ll give you Saskatchewan.”

“Oh please, don‘t insult me, Rahl,” Denna rolled her eyes. “Nobody *wants* Saskatchewan. These are my terms. Agree or.. show yourself the door.”

Rahl grimaced, rolling his forefinger and thumb against each other as he thought. In the end, D’Harist Columbia was a small price to pay for his grander plans. Acquiescing, Rahl bowed his head. “Agreed.”

“Good,” Denna grinned. She stepped to Richard’s side, sliding her arm around his elbow. “Let’s take this discussion to my chambers so we can sort out the details.”

**

 _HONOLULU, HAWAII_

 _Cara, on her side, hands pressed together and under her pillow, watched contentedly as Kahlan slowly awakened. Lips already pulling into a smile, Kahlan’s eyes brightened as they opened._

 _“Good morning, Mrs. Mason,” Kahlan whispered, beaming as she leaned into Cara, pressing their lips together._

 _“Good morning, Mrs. Mason,” Cara purred back._

 _“Have you been watching me sleep?”_

 _Cara nodded her head. “Mmm-hmm.”_

 _“All night?” Kahlan asked with a raised eyebrow._

 _“Mmm-hmm,” Cara purred louder. She reached out, twisting a finger in a long black curl. “I don’t want to miss a second of you.”_

 _“Eventually, you’re going to get tired?”_

 _“Of you?” Cara feigned shock at the insinuation, then returned Kahlan‘s kiss with her own. “Never.”_

 _Kahlan sighed as the kiss broke, lips hovering inches from each other. “We should probably leave our room sometime.”_

 _“Why? It’s not like you have any clothes to wear anyway,” Cara grinned. Burning the hotel had been an accident, an accident with definite benefits. “Kahlan, honey, we’re on our honeymoon. We’re supposed to spend it in bed.”_

 _“For three days?”_

 _“The suite’s paid in full for the week,” Cara wagged her eyebrows. “We have four more days to go. Or..” she kissed Kahlan again. “We could stay here for a month..” then drew her lips down to Kahlan‘s chin. “A year..” planted butterfly kisses across her jaw. “The rest of our lives.”_

 _Kahlan pouted, even though the idea of spending an eternity in bed with Cara sounded really, really good. Especially at the current moment, when Cara’s lips found Kahlan’s pulse point and nibbled gently. “But,” Kahlan breathed. “I really wanted to go to the beach today and watch you surf.”_

 _“Surf?” Cara blinked, pulling her head back enough to look Kahlan in the eyes. Her eyes darkened as she grinned lasciviously. “You just like how I look in a wetsuit.”_

 _“Mmm-hmm,” Kahlan nuzzled her nose against Cara’s. “I also like being the only one to remove your wetsuit. It’s like a sexy wrapper on candy that’s all mine.”_

 _“I would like to take this moment to point out that I am already unwrapped.”_

 _“You are,” Kahlan agreed. Then, she wrinkled her nose, face turning apologetic. “I also promised Richard and Zedd we’d have lunch with them before Richard left for DC.”_

 _Cara twitched in that way that wasn’t supposed to be noticeable but Kahlan had become attuned to Cara long before they exchanged rings. She rolled into Cara, turning the blonde onto her back as their bodies molded against each other._

 _“Have I told you how insanely hot I find your random and completely irrational bouts of insecurity?”_

 _“I am not insecure.. or irrational,” Cara huffed, eyes finding something of interest on the ceiling._

 _“Cara,” Kahlan waited until Cara was focused back on her. “I chose you. I married you. I *love* you.”_

 _“I..” Cara stammered, unsure what to say. It still astounded her that, a year later, they were still together. That Kahlan said ‘yes’ when Cara proposed and ‘yes’ again on a beach in front of everyone they knew as they exchanged rings. It wasn’t insecurity, just the constantly lingering doubt that Kahlan had made the wrong choice. “You don’t have to prove anything. Especially to me.”_

 _“I know. Well..” Kahlan wagged her eyebrows then brought her lips to Cara’s neck. “Maybe this.”_

 _It was a complete and total Cara move, finding the pulse point and nibbling with lips and teeth. And no one had mastered it in such a way as Kahlan had. Cara grunted, eyes fluttering as her neck craned, offering herself to Kahlan’s touch. It wasn’t Kahlan’s only touch, her hand drifted, finding Cara’s breast, kneading and caressing. Pinching. Just the way Cara liked it._

 _“Kahlan,” Cara panted, whimpered. Her fingers thread into thick, dark locks as Kahlan brought their mouths together once more. She didn’t have to prove her love to Cara, she showed. One touch, one caress and Cara was gone completely, lost in Kahlan’s skin, her fingers, her lips._

 _Their kiss, soft and gentle, quickly turned hurried, hungry. The mutual desire growing to a pulsing, aching need. Cara moaned into Kahlan’s mouth, knees lifting as she opened her thighs wider to the teasing rolling of Kahlan’s hips._

 _Kahlan lowered her hand again, nails scraping down the plain of Cara’s stomach. Cara hissed, muscles twitching. Then, Kahlan’s hand was between them, between Cara’s legs and Kahlan’s breath hitched at the feel of her wife’s flesh against her fingers. How Cara tightened and squeezed as Kahlan slid into her. How touching her always felt like the first time._

 _“I love how.. wet you get,” Kahlan breathed into Cara’s mouth. With the hand under Cara’s shoulder, Kahlan brushed her fingers against the back of Cara’s neck. Just a little, just enough, for her eyes to swirl briefly with black, the magic to pour from her fingers and Cara grunted beneath her, twitching on Kahlan’s fingers._

 _“Kahlan,” Cara panted, almost pained with eyes gone hooded and glazed._

 _A growl, low and throaty, rumbled up Kahlan’s throat, at her own dominance, at Cara’s easy acquiescence. She lowered, mapped familiar terrain with tongue, lips and teeth. Hands sliding under Cara’s knees, she lifted Cara’s legs, pinned them with her hands to keep muscular thighs from clamping onto her head. Flushed, wet, *vulnerable*, Kahlan’s lips hovered inches from Cara’s sex. With eyes hooded and just *hungry*, she gazed up at Cara, watching Cara watch her as she eagerly licked her lips._

 _Cara hated this part. Cara loved this part. How Kahlan would just *tease* her with the most exquisite of tortures. The way her teeth would nibble on the insides of Cara’s thighs. How her tongue would just circle around and around, prodding and licking and probing, but never where Cara needed her to be, never where Cara wanted her to be._

 _“Fuck,” she grunted in a tone of pure frustration. “Kahlan.”_

 _“Yes?” Kahlan giggled, then ran the tip of her tongue straight up the middle of Cara’s sex. “Will you have lunch with Richard and Zedd for me?”_

 _“Yes..”_

 _She pushed her tongue into Cara‘s opening, circled around once then immediately withdrew. “Will you surf for me?”_

 _“Yes.. Kahlan..”_

 _“Will you..”_

 _“Goddammit, Kahlan!” Cara growled through clenched teeth. She craned her head, neck muscles straining as she looked down at the woman between her legs. “I’ll do anything for you! Move mountains. Swim oceans. Steal the stars from the fucking skies. Just.. Fuck.. PLEASE!!”_

 _Kahlan laughed then gave Cara just what she needed. Lips. Suction. Friction. Kahlan’s mouth - lips, tongue and teeth - battering her clit. Kahlan’s fingers - two, curled just so - pumping deeply inside her. All Cara needed and she came undone, thrashing and writhing on the mattress, hands balling the sheets into white knuckled fists, back arching as the keening wail erupted from her throat._

 _After the shuddering subsided to minor quakes, Kahlan gently and slowly kissed her way back up Cara’s body. She brought their lips together, Cara purring as she always did at the taste of own her essence on Kahlan’s lips._

 _Kahlan pulled back, placing her fingertips to Cara’s lips. “I love you, Cara Mason,” she whispered tenderly with sincerity and devotion. “And I will spend the rest of my life proving to you how much I love you.”_

**

AYDINDRIL, NEW ZEALAND

It wasn’t a demotion. The Confessors were too polite, too regal an agency to call it such. But, a demotion it was. It started the moment Kahlan arrived in Aydindril after the assault in Venice. A civilian desk job in Public Relations while the Agency erased her burn notice, while she was constantly questioned, read: interrogated, about what exactly happened in Venice.

Kahlan had always been one of the Agency’s best agents. But, after her breakup with Richard followed with her relationship with Cara, there were questions regarding her.. judgment. On paper, it certainly looked suspicious - an attack by Mord‘Sith, the Seeker injured and clinging to life, the Sword of Truth stolen. All taking place at the residence of a former Mord‘Sith, the Shadow, who alleges she’s an MBI double agent, one who mysteriously disappears before the dust settles.

It’s not that the Agency thought Kahlan was lying, they just didn’t entirely believe her, and demoted her.

And Kahlan returned from her paternity leave to find her credentials partially restored, and a desk job within the Confessor Archives Department. Where she spent her days sifting, sorting and filing mountains of unclassified documents.

Hair piled into a loose bun, pen tucked behind an ear, Kahlan sat at a large table, going through the contents of the box ubiquitously stamped #924782. The contents were nothing more than innocuous inter-office memos regarding security for the upcoming D’Hara/US summit, where the Confessors would have a small presence. Kahlan’s eyes had glazed over an hour ago. It was mindless, boring, busy work. And deadly dull. There was even a memo concerning what types of laces should be woven into the Confessor‘s robes.

Something sparked in the back of her brain, the thought to look over a page she’d passed over. Kahlan sat up, fingers pushing pages over each other until they stopped. And the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, back straightening from the trickle of ice water running down her spine.

She read the memo. She read it twice, five times, ten times. Something within her screaming ‘no, read it again!’. Kahlan’s eyes went wide.

“Oh my God,” she muttered under her breath.

Fingers shaking, she pulled her cell from her purse, hitting speed dial. The one number she knew she could trust, the one she could always trust.

“Hello?” Zedd’s chippery voice filled her ear.

“Zedd, it’s Kahlan. Can I meet you for lunch? I‘ll pay.”

“I’m sorry, Kahlan but I..”

Kahlan grimaced. Today would have to be the day Zedd decided to skip on a free lunch.

“Zedd,” she cut him off, her voice a little more serious. “I’d like to meet you for lunch.”

He got it. “Tell me where and when.”

**

For the first time in almost a year, Kahlan felt like a spy again. A real spy. It was all very cloak and dagger, meeting Zedd outside Aydindril for lunch. Someplace where she was sure she hadn’t been followed, where no one would be monitoring her conversation. She chose a diner on the other side of the road across from the beach. A surf shack with tiki torches on the walls, Beach Boys blasting through the speakers and tables with surfboards for surfaces. It had been instinctual, choosing the place she and Cara went, where Kahlan loved to do nothing but sit and watch Cara surf.

Zedd was already there by the time she arrived, halfway through his burger and fries, napkin tucked into the front of his Hawaiian shirt. Kahlan sat across from him, forearms on the surfboard as she stared irritated at his plate.

“You weren’t actually supposed to order lunch,” she huffed.

“You,” he paused, taking a sip of his beer. “Shouldn’t have said you’d pay.”

“Never mind.” Kahlan shook her head. She could do what she needed to do while Zedd ate. She placed her purse on the table, pulling a folded sheet of paper out and sliding it across the board to Zedd.

“What’s this?” he asked, wiping his hands with a napkin before picking up the memo.

“Just read it.”

The waitress came over and Kahlan ordered while Zedd scanned the letter. He placed it back onto the table with a hard and heavy sigh.

“Well?” Kahlan asked expectantly.

Zedd sneered distastefully. “Only a government drone could make a memo about ladies undergarments sound so exceedingly dull.”

“Seriously?” Kahlan gaped at him. “That’s all you saw? Read it again.”

He inhaled deeply. “I have no idea what I’m supposed to be looking for.”

Kahlan rose, circling around the table. Standing next to him, she leaned over the table, pointing. “This was typed on a computer and printed out. This isn’t a photocopy, it’s the original. But, see?” she pointed. “Several letters are darker, double stamped. If this were written on a typewriter, all the same letters would be double stamped. But, here, it‘s only eight letters.”

“My God,” Zedd gasped, his voice like a saw over hard wood. “Mord’Sith.”

“It’s Cara, Zedd. I know it. And I know where she is, at least, where she‘s going to be.”

“Kahlan..” he sighed.

“I know what you’re going to say, Zedd,” she pressed, her voice tinged with desperation. Because if Zedd didn‘t believe her, she‘d truly be alone. “That I’m seeing things that aren’t there but I’m not.”

“Then you should take this to the proper authorities.”

“Why? So they can ignore it, put it in a box, that I get the pleasure of filing six months later. They won’t believe me, Zedd. And you know it.”

“What if you’re wrong?” he implored. His efforts to find Cara had left him repeatedly empty handed. It’s not that he didn’t want to believe her, just Zedd had very little family. With Cara in the hands of the Mord‘Sith, Richard still recovering and not speaking to him, Kahlan was all he had left. And the very idea of her putting herself in danger, alone with no backup against one of the most dangerous organizations in the world, chilled him to his very core.

“If I’m wrong then I’ll have an uneventful vacation and you can say I told you so when I get back.” Kahlan closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. She was dangling by a thread over an abyss with no end. She was tired and frightened and alone. She was tired of *being* alone. “I need to do this, Zedd. Question is, will you help me?”

He placed his hands atop hers, squeezing gently. “You know I wouldn’t be here if I wouldn’t.”

**

“Kahlan,” Dennee implored, for seemingly the hundredth time. “Are you sure?”

Kahlan knew this would be hard. She *knew* this would be hard. The hardest thing she’d ever do in her life and it was still harder than she ever realized. Because so much of her screamed not to. She brushed her fingers gently over the crown of her daughter’s head as her sister held Isabel. Memorized the downy softness of the fine hairs against her fingertips, the way Isabel tilted her head into her mother’s touch, twitching and yawning before falling back to sleep. This was the hardest thing Kahlan ever had to do. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard.

“Kahlan,” Dennee asked again. “Are you sure?”

Kahlan swallowed the sob rising in her throat as her thumb grazed over Isabel’s forehead. “No,” she finally admitted. “But, if I don’t, I’ll never be able to live with myself. I have to put my family back together.”

“At least..” Dennee paused as Isabel gurgled and Dennee shifted, gently bouncing the infant in her arms. Kahlan’s face tightened, scrunching like she was trying desperately to hold it together, and failing. “At least, let me go with you.”

“NO!” Kahlan snapped, focusing her energies. “I can’t do this and worry about Isabel as well. I know she’ll be safe with you.” She softened, curling her lips upwards. “I’m coming back, Dennee.”

“If you just spoke to the Mother Confessor..” Dennee’s voice trailed. They’d had this particular conversation before. Kahlan had become ‘persona non grata’ to the Mother Confessor and, by extension, so had Dennee. Isabel gurgled again and Dennee looked down at the tiny life in her arms. The Mother Confessor may have not given Dennee a mission but her sister had. She inhaled deeply, lifting her head and giving the smallest of nods. “I’ll protect her with my life.”

“It’s not going to come to that,” Kahlan chuckled mirthlessly. She leaned in, kissing Dennee on the cheek then pressing their foreheads together like they used to do during the darkest days of their childhood. “Thank you.”

Kahlan pulled away the moment she felt her sister’s tears and Kahlan turned her eyes to her daughter. Because if she saw Dennee crying, she would cry and Kahlan promised herself she wouldn’t. She bent down, hand still on the top of Isabel’s head, she pressed her lips to Isabel’s forehead, putting all the love she felt into the small contact as if she could push a piece of her soul into her daughter. She inhaled deeply, taking in every scent, every sensation.

Then, using every ounce of strength within her, Kahlan stopped. She rose to her full height, smiling weakly at her sister before she turned on her heel and walked out of Dennee’s home.

It was the hardest thing Kahlan ever had to do. It was harder than she ever imagined. She didn’t break until she’d closed the door behind her.


End file.
